Fall of Jnul
by Cooiee
Summary: What will become a collection of short stories of a Tyranid Hive Fleet's devouring of the Jnul System and mankinds response to this threat. Please Read and Review.


Jnul System

Fourth Planet: Jnul IV

2 Months, 36 Hours before Tyranid Hive Fleet 'Hydra' Contact.

Jacone Brigg drew his thick coat tighter around himself. It was an uncommonly warm winter in the southern hemisphere this year, so much so that had he not known the progression of the year and the Harvest, the young man would have sworn they were only beginning to leave the humid High Months. But a cold snap had come in uninvited and reminded everyone (especially the vulnerable Brigg sitting in the exposed cockpit of the juddering crop hauler as it ploughed its way along the dusty highway) that it was indeed well into the Lows.

Jnul IV was one of those 'unimportant' worlds. It wasn't a bustling Hive world teeming with life, strife and the inherent thick atmosphere that Jacone had heard a number of off-world traders complain or brag about; but neither was it like the lush Harvest worlds- planet sized farms providing produce for the ever consuming Hive Worlds. Jnul was one of those planets that were in-between things. Unimportant. That's not to say it didn't have its value of course. The seventeen tons of Jnulian Clam's towed in the hauler's Cold Rooms were much appreciated and sought after by the ruling classes and well-to-do's of Fennix. Oh yes, the fifth planet of the Jnul System was actually worthy of a name instead of a standardised designation- most likely had something to do with the fact it was the Mercantile Capitol for several systems, or so Jacone had been told.

He had made this run hundreds of times before, he'd take it anywhere between six or seven times a year- more this year, seeing as the winter had been warmer and the Clams and subsequently the well-to-do's of Fennix had greatly appreciated it.

He could drive the twenty-four-hundred kilometre run to the city of Attel in his sleep- admittedly, he would probably do that, were it not for the fact that the highway was barely wide enough to accommodate the old cumbersome hauler, and a smooth, un pot-holed patch of road, in fact- any patch of road proper was cause to pull over and give praise to the God-Emperor.

Above the rushing of the wind and the roar of the gutsy engine, Jacone nodded his head to the Pound- a loud collection of noises, thumps, bangs and electric effects that apparently passed for music amongst the Twists that worked at the Clam farm. He didn't mind it- at least it was something to listen to for the drive.

The city of Attel itself was a sprawling metropolis; it had started out as a small trading hub by Jnul IV's only spaceport some eight hundred years ago. Time and economics had allowed the little hub to grow into the city it was now; and still it was ever growing larger with each of Jocone's visits; it had only been a little over a month since his last run to the planets capital, and already over ten thousand acres of what previously had been forest had been reduced to brown-red scars upon the earth and was well into the construction of industrial zones.

After adding another half day to his already weeklong drive thanks to the construction crews, the dust and dirt caked hauler and driver trundled finally into the loading bay of Crohn Mercantile- one of Attel's many trading and transport conglomerates.

Jocone half-heartedly went through the familiar routine. Jumping down from the high cabin, the novelty of the cloud of dust falling from his scruffy blonde hair and dark jacket as he landed had worn off long ago; he checked his battered data pad against the obese, greasy skinned officials alleged inventory list, checked yet again to make sure that the inventory hadn't decided to mysteriously disappear somehow during the trek, he argued with the official out of professional courtesy about nothing in particular; payments had already been settled which saved Jocone time which meant he got to stand around for half an hour and reflect on how the loading servitors by his hauler looked so much like Drow Ants swarming around an overturned Rhine Bug. That finally done, the official gave him the immense honour moving his 'piece of friggin' crap' out of the way for another behemoth that was apparently hauling ore for the Departmento Munitorum and was therefore far more important than simply inconveniencing the Departmento for half an hour so Jocone's hauler could be filled with the water sanitising units and replacement farming parts and equipment he was supposed to pick up so he could be on his merry way. No, far better to have him delayed for what he knew would be at least three hours.

Resisting the urge to pound the officials face into the oil slicked concrete; Jocone begrudgingly obliged the Departmento and moved his hauler out of the way of the dwarfing ore mover.

Since it's establishment, Attel had had a number of significant architectural achievements. The first towering skyscraper from its earliest days- long since demolished, the grand (and still standing) Cathedral of the Ecclesiarchy; the most recent was Jnul IV's first Hab Spire. From Jocone's vantage from over a kilometre away, it seemed to loom over everything, casting its shadow across a large portion of the city in the late afternoon sun, even where Jocone stood. He tried not to stare up at it too much; the clouds passing overhead gave the unnerving impression that the Spire was about to topple over on top of him.

Frustrated at the turn of events at the loading docks, Jocone had decided to vent his frustrations by walking it off through the city for a couple of hours; it wasn't working, the city streets were bustling with people even this close to the industrial areas, it was every man out for himself, it was a real trick not to get stood on, or elbowed or spat upon or yelled at; Jocone found himself joining in with the overall spirit of the population and offered a few inventive names and insults he was sure at least two people would probably like and maybe use themselves.

Really, he was only getting more frustrated by the minute and he was thinking that he would have been better off at the loading dock twiddling his thumbs for the few hours.

Jocone finally paused outside a narrow alleyway. He had been making his way back to Crohn Mercantile when he happened upon it, it was near where the industrial zone officially started, between an old run-down Hab building, and a heavy vehicle repair shop with servitors rolling about their business. But it wasn't the old Hab or shop that caught his interest; it was the small cluster of women gathered just inside the mouth of the alley. Shiners. Pleasure girls who had no reservations working in daylight.

Jocone eagerly made his way over to them. If there was one way of dealing with frustration, he knew this was definitely it, he had plenty of time before the Departmento were done with their work, he was sure; so a little rut would fill in time perfectly for him.

The first two girls attempts to charm him were deflected; they looked like they enjoyed stubbing out Iho Sticks on their faces all their lives and Jocone ignored them completely- he did have some standards. The third girl was different however; she was a good head shorter than Jocone, not the most lustrous physique, rather flat chested, but she donned a long cloak that covered much of her features making her look rather mysterious- something that appealed very much to Jocone who wasted no time at all approaching her.

"You handle a good time?" She said beneath her hood. Her jaw moved very little as she spoke, but the flesh of what part of her face he could see was surprisingly youthful looking.

Jocone was not one to turn down a challenge like that and in no time had the woman escorting him up through the shabby Hab building. It looked a while lot better on the inside than it did out. Mildew stains covered the ceiling and it was a challenge to find any place that was clear of the dark blotchy pools. He followed her down a narrow hall, the paint that had long since lost it original colour peeled from the walls in large brittle flakes. They walked past two rooms, one without a door that gave free view of a man laying on a cot sticking a needle into his arm.

He followed the Shiner into a dimly lit room. The late afternoon light filtered through a set of filthy curtains that were drawn across the lone window; it was a small room in about as good a shape as the rest of the building, Jocone caught a quick glimpse of a dirty mattress in a far corner by a broken lamp before the Shiner was upon him, locking a kiss firmly onto him dry, wind burned lips.

He was a little taken aback by this, but it simply wouldn't do; if he wanted action like this he'd be with one of his wives- hoping they never found out about each other. He was about to push the Shiner off him when she drove her tongue into his mouth. She was eager but amazing; he let her go until he found he couldn't breath. Her tongue was literally down his throat!

Jocone tried to push the Shiner away from him but she resisted, knocking her hood back he was greeted by a pair of the most brilliant gold eyes he had ever seen in his life- the bald and irregularly shaped head went unnoticed. Those eyes.

Part of his mind was telling him that things were not right and that he would in fact need to breathe soon, but that nonsense thinking disappeared quickly. Everything thing was alright, and what was happening here was right.

Everything Alright. So Right.


End file.
